For Hope I Would Give Everything
by ClaireAbernathy
Summary: For the past six months, Alice's thoughts have dwelt on little else but her arrival at Arcadia; as Claire's memory returns, Alice begins to discover that what she found is more than she ever could have hoped for. Alice/Claire
1. Alexithymia

**Fandom: **Resident Evil: Afterlife.

**Pairing:** Alice/Claire

**Rating: **T

**Summary**: For the past six months, Alice's thoughts have dwelt on little else but her arrival at Arcadia. The reality, however, is nothing like what she had hoped.

**Disclaimer**: Yes, I most certainly own Resident Evil. That's why Afterlife has such a beautiful kissing scene between Alice and Claire... oh, wait, it doesn't? My bad. I actually own nothing.

**A/N: **_Okay, so, for anyone reading this who might be familiar with my other series Imagine If This All Came Down - this fic series takes place in a completely different timeline. Nothing that happens here is at all connected to my other fic. However, it will be done in a similar style - consisting (likely) of 5 parts which are more or less connected to each other. But this time, there's going to be more build-up over the course of the series. And I'm going to shut up now, so comment if you feel so inclined (feedback is always greatly appreciated), and above all - enjoy! _

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**For Hope I Would Give Everything**

One: Alexithymia

"_Thus we never see the true state of our condition, till it is illustrated to us by its contraries; nor know how to value what we enjoy, but by the want of it."_

-Robinson Crusoe, Daniel Defoe

xxx

There are some things in nature for which a parallel cannot be found. This, Alice thought, must certainly be true of Alaska, because it was the most spectacular place she had ever seen. As she piloted the red YAK soviet trainer above crystalline waters, past towering walls of ice and snow-capped mountains, her breath was all but taken away by the sublime landscape.

She reached up to turn on her camcorder and began to speak:

"May 3rd, 16:00 hours. 177 days without signs of life. I'm at 58.37 degrees north, 134.58 degrees west, closing in on the coordinates for Arcadia... but no signs of it on any map. I hope Claire and the others made it."

Alice shook her head and shut the device off. It was an understatement: for the past six months as she made the arduous journey from Japan, meeting up with the other survivors had been the hub of her thoughts; she had dwelt on little else. In fact, Alice had imagined the reunion to such a degree that it almost felt real:

_She can see Arcadia from the sky: it is a small but thriving town, and there are people everywhere. She lands her plane in a field dotted with many other vehicles and a party of survivors come to greet her. Among them are K-Mart and Claire. Her feet barely have time to touch the ground before K-Mart wraps her in the tightest of hugs, refusing to let go for long minutes. When at last she finally does, Claire approaches with a smirk and simply says: "Took you long enough." The redhead feigns indifference at first, but when Alice wraps her arms around Claire, the younger woman holds on just as tight. Later, the two of them give her a tour, and K-Mart enthusiastically regales her with stories from their own journey. And for the first time in years, Alice is able to be part of a community. _

It was with this vivid mental image that she spurred her little plane on, anticipation coiling inside her as she drew closer to the coordinates she had seen in the journal 18 months ago. She could almost feel the warmth of her friends' embraces; she craved it more than anything she ever did before.

A little over two hours later, she checked her instruments and looked out the window. Something was not right: she was almost on top of it, yet she saw virtually no sign of Arcadia, save for a field of vehicles.

_Where is it? _Alice wondered, circling her plane around. She made several passes but found nothing more. Finally she resolved to land and see if maybe Arcadia were somehow obscured from above.

When the YAK came to a stop, Alice opened the cockpit; she climbed out and stood on the wing to observe what lay before her. It looked like a graveyard: there were planes of every size and shape, but all appeared long-abandoned. Her earlier anticipation rapidly dwindled as she began to walk among them. No welcome party came, and if people were in the area they would surely have seen her by then.

At the end of the field there were two helicopters parked at the mouth of a path, which led out to a sandy beach; for want of any better course of action, she followed it.

Alice stopped dead – there on the beach was the Umbrella helicopter.

Her feet carried her to it at a brisk pace, but like all the other vehicles, it was empty. She resisted the urge to yell in frustration; instead she began to look closely for any signs of a struggle, blood, anything to indicate what might have happened. As she moved to the front of the helicopter, a flash of red caught her eye. She reached for it – it was the journal that she had discovered in Nevada.

She leafed through the book, hoping that there would be a note between the pages – hoping that K-Mart had left it to tell her where they had gone.

At first there was nothing, but upon coming to the final pages, she found new entries made in neat handwriting. They detailed the long journey to Alaska; the last was dated three months ago:

"_We are here. Arcadia. At last."_

She turned the page and found that there was another, more hastily scrawled entry:

"_Something not right."_

With the notebook in her hands, Alice walked over to a large piece of driftwood. She set up her camcorder and sat down.

"May 3rd, 18:30 hours. Arcadia... no such place exists: just an empty field – and a beach."

The waves crashed at her feet, and she looked out at the expanse of water before her.

"But we all heard the transmissions... someone must have sent them. _Someone _must have brought all these people here. But _why_? And where did they go?"

She got up and moved closer to the camera, kneeling in front of it.

"Day 177 signing off. I don't know if I can do this much longer," Alice confessed, myriad emotions crossing her features. More than anything, she felt crushing defeat. "What if I'm the last one? What if there is no one else... no one to watch these tapes?"

She paused. "Is this my punishment... for letting all this happen?"

Alice had no idea what she meant to say next; nor would she ever find out, for her train of thought was interrupted by a sudden blur of a figure running through her peripheral vision.

She rose, yelling after it, "Hey! Wait!"

Alice ran in the direction the other had gone – ran as fast as she could.

"Wait! Please – stop!"

She slowed down until she stood still in the middle of the airplane graveyard. She could no longer see the blurry shape that she had been chasing.

Had her mind simply been playing tricks on her?

"Hello?" No answer. "Hello? _Answer me_."

The only response was the gentle, metallic squeak of a door swinging on its hinges – the door to the plane in front of her. Alice drew her guns and steeled herself. She approached slowly: she had forgotten what it felt like to have need for caution – it was terrifying, and her hands shook with every step closer.

She eased herself around the door –

– And a raucous noise erupted from inside as a dozen crows flew at her. She ducked, but they flew over. With something akin to relief, she let out a breath that she had been holding.

And then something collided with the side of her head.

Alice fell to the ground, confused and seeing stars. She had no time to recover – some feral thing was on top of her, trying to stab her with a hooked knife. She struggled to hold off the attack: the thing – the _woman_, she realized – was strong, and it took all of Alice's power to buck her off.

Alice was quick to rise, but the she-creature was striking at her again, the blade coming so close she could almost feel it whistle by. She dogged several of these swipes before she kicked out fiercely, her foot hitting home. This had the desired effect – the woman collided with the wing of the plane and slid down, landing face first on the ground.

Staring down at the ragged person with contempt, Alice flipped her over with her boot.

She could not have, by any faculty of her being, expected the sight that came from doing so. The scraggly, feral thing that had attacked her was _Claire Redfield_, and the revelation wrenched a horrified gasp from her lips.

As her eyes swept across the familiar, albeit dirty, features of the younger woman, they were drawn to something decidedly _unfamiliar_. Affixed to her chest was some kind of mechanical scarab with needle-like legs, which contracted and dug into Claire's skin as her fingers brushed it. When she took her hand away, the device returned to its former position.

_What is this?_

Whatever it was, she had no doubt that Umbrella was involved one way or another. And the scarab had to be what was making Claire behave the way she did – it was controlling her somehow.

Alice carefully lifted Claire into her arms, and as the unconscious woman's head fell limp against her shoulder, she felt a pang of guilt for hitting her so hard.

_I didn't know it was her_, she reasoned, but that hardly made it better. Of all the scenarios that had passed through her thoughts, none had even been close to this.

She did not carry her far – just to the front of the plane – but it was long enough to realize how light Claire was. If she really had been alone in Alaska in that state for three months, it was a wonder she had managed to survive at all. As it was, her entire body was smeared with dirt and her clothes were torn. She also smelled of something, and it was _not_ roses.

Yet, in spite of all this, Alice could scarcely find words to express just how wonderful it was to have Claire there. Her body was warm and solid; an absolute confirmation that at least she was not the _only _one left.

She set Claire down against the front wheel and used some rope to bind her wrists to the landing gear. It would be an uncomfortable position, but she had to be sure of her own safety in order to help the redhead.

Once she was certain that the younger woman would pose no further threat, Alice set to removing the scarab from her chest. It was not so easy a task as she had thought, for the metallic creature held tight to her skin. When she finally got it free, it was not without leaving fresh puncture wounds.

"Sorry," she said, but Claire remained unconscious.

Alice considered the device briefly before setting it aside. She had things that she needed to see to before the redhead awoke – the most important being finding some means by which to clean her.

It took Alice a while of searching, but she was able to procure a host of useful items: a lantern, several tins and packages of food, a bag of quarters, some batteries for her camera, and a metal bucket. She left the lantern and two tins of soup on the ground beside Claire and brought the other things back to the YAK. These she stored inside, after which she fetched from the back seat a black rucksack, wherein there was a cloth, towel, and spare set of clothes – her _only _spare set. This she left with the redhead as well, and then she went to fill the bucket with water from a nearby stream. Lastly she gathered some dry wood to make a fire: it was May, but the night was likely to be chilly.

Her task complete, Alice crouched by the plane she had tied Claire to, resolved to wait until she awoke naturally. It was some time before she did, so Alice killed time by examining the scarab in the light of the lantern.

When Claire came to, she struggled against her restraints like an animal in a trap. The wildness in her eyes had dimmed a little, but when she looked at Alice there was no recognition in her gaze.

"Hey, hey... it's okay," Alice said, moving toward her.

Claire grunted at her and continued to squirm.

Alice went on: "Sorry about that, but I had to get this thing off of you. What is this? Who did this to you?"

The redhead merely shifted; it seemed as if she were incapable of speech.

"Do you even know who I am?" she asked, feeling irrationally frustrated by her lack of response. "My name is _Alice_. We met in the Nevada desert eighteen months ago. Any of this sound familiar? Mikey, Carlos, L.J. – _K-Mart_."

She had hoped that mentioning the teenager might spark something in Claire, but her eyes had a sort of emptiness to them, like she was not all there. Still, out of desperation she decided to try once more.

"You left in a helicopter with a group of survivors headed for Alaska. Arcadia, remember?"

Claire squirmed some more and tugged her wrists against the rope, but said nothing.

Alice sighed. _At least I found her, _she thought, shaking her head. _If... when she gets her memory back, I'll finally have some real company. Until then, I need to do what I can to help her. _

With that resolution made, Alice set about making a fire. A knife and magnesium stick made the task easier, and soon she had a decently warm blaze going. She set the bucket near the fire to warm the water, concerned that if she just tossed the chilled liquid on Claire she might contract hypothermia.

When it was sufficiently warm, Alice dipped the cloth in the water and moved close to the redhead. Blue eyes glared at her approach, but she was not deterred. She laid one gentle hand on Claire's knee to help brace herself and leaned across to brush the cloth across her cheek.

Claire snapped at her with her teeth, almost catching Alice's hand.

"Hey," Alice said, indignant. "I'm trying to _help _you. We can do this one of two ways: I can throw this bucket of water over your head, or you can let me clean you up. What's it going to be?"

The redhead's eyes narrowed, but when she brought the cloth to her cheek again, Claire made no further protest. Alice cleaned her face with the greatest of care; with all the dirt scrubbed away, Claire looked once more like the woman she remembered, except for the cloudiness in her normally clear blue eyes.

Alice brushed her fingertips tenderly along Claire's jaw.

"I forgot how beautiful you are," she mused softly, almost unaware that she spoke the words aloud.

Something flickered in Claire's eyes, but it was gone a moment later. She seemed to drift into a sort of trancelike state, awake but passive; this worked to Alice's advantage as she scrubbed the grime from the rest of her body. It was a difficult process and took some time, but she managed it. Once done, she used the towel to dry her; with some further trouble, Alice got her into the fresh set of clothes.

With Claire once again settled against the plane, Alice set two large pieces of wood over a bed of coals in her fire with enough space for air flow but not enough to cause the cans to fall through. She set the tins on top of them and waited for the food to warm. She rarely bothered to do such a thing, but she thought it might be good for Claire's health to have a warm meal.

When the soup was heated up enough, she fetched a spoon and can opener from one of the pockets of the rucksack.

"You hungry?" she asked, looking over to her companion.

The redhead still did not speak, but in a rare show of lucidity, she nodded her head. Alice smiled: it was progress, if but a little.

She left her tin of soup near the fire to keep it warm and opened the other as she moved over to sit beside Claire, stirring the contents to let it cool a little. Mindful not to spill any on the redhead's new clothes, Alice scooped up a small portion with the spoon and carefully guided it to her lips. Claire seemed content to be fed, for she made no effort to push Alice away.

It did not take long for her to finish, and Alice was glad: she was so hungry herself that her stomach had begun to growl. As Alice set about eating her own meal, Claire closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

She watched the younger woman for a while, thinking about Nevada. It seemed so long ago – now she wished that she had not sent them on this crazy voyage to Alaska, or at the very least that she had not been so intent on her lone revenge on Umbrella. She should have had the sense to go with them; to ensure their safety.

"I'm sorry I let this happen to you," Alice said, but her words fell on deaf ears.

_I don't know how... but I'll make this up to you. I'll make this right: one way or another. _

_

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_Also for disclaimer's sake, I don't own the RE script upon which certain details from this story were based.  
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_So... what did you think? I hope to have another part done soon, but I'm about to be very busy with assignments. (But then, writing is so much more important than school, isn't it?) I apologize for any mistakes there might be... I'm very tired.  
_


	2. Weight of the World

**Fandom: **Resident Evil: Extinction

**Pairing: **Alice/Claire

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Umbrella had taken many things away from Alice, but the foremost was her ability to be with friends.

**Disclaimer**: You know the drill. I don't own RE, sadly enough.

_A/N: Okay, so here's part two. I was strangely productive and got it done much faster than I thought. This part, as you'll notice from the change in fandom, is a flashback to Extinction. But you want to know what's happening in the present time, right? Don't worry, all will reveal itself in due time. For those who have watched this movie obsessively, you will recognize that I inserted two deleted scenes from the film into my narrative, and I changed a few minor details. Enjoy!_

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**For Hope I Would Give Everything**

Two: Weight of the World

_It is good to be solitary, for solitude is difficult; that something is difficult must be a reason the more for us to do it._

-Rainer Maria Rilke

xxx

**Nevada desert, 18 months ago. **

Alice awoke with a start. Her vision was consumed by light, and she raised a gloved hand in an attempt to block its assault. In doing so, her eyes fell on a bracelet of intricately woven electrical wire, which someone must have put on her wrist whilst she was unconscious.

Disoriented, her head feeling fuzzy and thick from using her powers, Alice turned to see a blonde teenager, who was sitting close by and looking at her with keen eyes.

"Hi," the girl said, offering her a tentative smile.

"Hey," Alice replied. She sat up slightly and gestured to the bracelet. "This belong to you?"

The girl looked down, seeming bashful but smiling in spite of it. "I gave it to you last night, for luck."

Alice smiled back at her. The gift was a small gesture, and she had long since given up on believing in luck, but the sentiment behind it was sweet.

"Thank you," she said. "What's your name?"

"K-Mart." At Alice's apparent confusion, the teen elaborated, "It's where they found me. Claire and the other... a few years back."

"Do you have another name?"

K-Mart rolled her eyes slightly and glanced off to the side, her features darkening. "I never liked it. And everyone I knew was dead, so... seemed like time for a change."

Alice sensed that it was a sensitive subject, so she did not push it further.

"Can't argue with that."

A sound at the window caused them both to turn toward it. Some children were whispering among themselves, and when Alice looked at them, they ducked under the boards on the window. Some of the braver ones continued to stare in spite of her gaze on them.

"What's up with them?" Alice asked, half way between bewildered and amused.

"They didn't think you were real. They tell stories about you at night, like you're the Boogeyman or Dracula... something like that," K-Mart answered, looking embarrassed.

"Yeah," Alice said wryly, "something like that."

The teen was quick to interject: "But I don't think you are. I think what you did was really cool... you're more like Jedi."

Alice smirked. She liked that assessment of her abilities much better, but the cynical part of her thought that the former was probably closer to the truth.

She shifted into an upright position, letting her legs hang off the edge of the couch.

"Have you been here long?" Alice asked, gesturing to the chair that the teenager was sitting on.

"No, just a little while," K-Mart said, shaking her head. "Carlos brought you in here last night, but Claire stayed with you, in case you woke up. I wanted to, but she said it was too dangerous."

Rhetorically, Alice replied, "Is that right?"

The teenager's statement piqued her interest: Alice had been trailing the convoy at a distance for some time now, and all the while she had been curious to see the woman who had managed to keep so many people together for so long.

So she asked, "Can you take me to see her?"

"Sure," K-Mart said eagerly. "I think you'll really like her. Claire is amazing."

"So I've heard."

They rose from their seats and walked out together; as they did, the teen elaborated about the convoy's leader.

"My family died in the outbreak," K-Mart said, looking sad again for a moment before brightening as she went on: "Claire reminds me a lot of my sister. But my sister always used to treat me like a little kid, and Claire doesn't. She actually lets me help out... most of the time."

"So how did this become Claire's convoy?"

K-Mart's eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not really sure. Everyone just sorta started looking to her for answers. I don't think we ever really discussed it... it just is."

Though she did not say as much, Alice was impressed. Inspiring people to follow you was not an easy thing; to do so without question was the mark of a true leader, indeed.

Outside, the others were gathered around a row of freshly dug graves. As they approached the group, Alice touched K-Mart on the shoulder. The teen nodded and went to join them, while Alice wandered off to the side.

Not long after, Carlos approached with a tall redhead at his side. From her deportment, Alice knew immediately who she was, but he confirmed her assumption when he spoke.

"Alice, this is Claire Redfield."

She reached out to take the other woman's offered hand. Her grip was strong, and her features were solemn.

"Thank you so much for your help," Claire said.

Alice nodded in acknowledgement. Before she could say anything in response, the redhead's name was called.

"Excuse me; I have things I have to attend to."

With that, she left. Carlos started to walk, and Alice followed.

"In the last six months she lost half of the convoy," he explained. "Pretty soon there will be more of us dead than alive."

It was a morbid thought, and it only inspired more respect in her for the other woman. She knew all too well what it was like to feel responsible for the deaths of those around her; that Claire also had this kind of responsibility was an odd sort of comfort.

"Alice, what happened to you? Why did you leave after Detroit?"

She shook her head. "I didn't have a choice. They were using me."

"What do you mean?"

"They were tracking me. I couldn't be around you. Any of you. I would've gotten you all killed."

Squinting against the sun, Carlos asked, "That's why you disappeared?"

She nodded. "I broke into an Umbrella facility; hacked into their computers... downloaded the satellite trajectories... stayed off the grid."

"After the world ended, why stay out there alone?

Alice's answer had been a sort of internal mantra of hers for the last few years:

"It's just safer... if I'm not around people."

Carlos smiled. "Why'd you come back?"

He drew her into a hug, and Alice did her best to hold back tears. Umbrella had taken many things away from her; the foremost of which was her ability to be with friends. She had grown used to being alone, and the reunion only stressed to her the true degree of her loss.

They drew apart, and Alice felt suddenly as if she were being watched. It was strange: the satellite trajectory was far from the convoy and should not be approaching for hours yet.

She checked her watch, which kept track of the satellite locations. It appeared to be working fine, but her instincts were telling her that something was wrong.

"Damn," she said, looking up at the sky. "What time is it?"

Carlos called to Chase, who was perched atop the tanker, "Chase, what time is it?"

Chase glanced at his wrist and said, "Well, Carlos, it is... uh, 12:14. Why, you got somewhere you gotta be?"

Carlos smiled at this; Alice tried to suppress her growing sense of concern. It was probably her imagination getting the better of her.

"Guess I'm just being paranoid."

They talked for awhile longer before a young Australian man came and asked Carlos for some help moving something. He excused himself, once again leaving Alice alone. With nothing better to do, she made her way over to a gasp pump in the middle of the camp. She leaned against it, thankful for the shade it provided. Even with her extraordinary T-virus enhanced anatomy, she was not impervious to the sun.

Nearly half an hour later, Alice looked up at the sound of Claire's voice. She had been so focused on her own thoughts that she had not noticed the other woman's approach.

"Got a minute?"

Claire was holding her sunglasses in her hands, and she tucked them on the front of her tank top. Her expression was difficult to read, but Alice had an idea where the conversation was going, even before it had truly begun.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Thanks again for doing... whatever you did," Claire said; this time, the statement was not so businesslike, her tone more genuinely grateful.

With a half-smile, Alice replied, "No problem."

The redhead crossed her arms over her chest. "Can you explain how you did it?"

"I wish I could," Alice replied honestly. "They did something to me... something I can't understand; can't control."

Claire shifted her footing and looked down briefly. She seemed unsure, as if calculating her words.

"Listen, it isn't that we're not grateful, because we are... it's just... they're all talking about that stunt of yours, and they're scared."

Alice glanced away. "I don't blame them. Truth is... I'm scared too."

There was silence again, and a sense of dread coiled inside Alice. Perhaps it was because of the prescience the T-virus bestowed upon her, or maybe it was the tension in the redhead's body language – either way, she knew she was not going to like what came next.

"I hate to say this," Claire began, "but we face enough dangers every day. I don't know if I can face another danger this close to home."

As the redhead spoke the words, Alice closed her eyes. When she looked back up at Claire, there was genuine emotion and regret on the leader's face; it made the harsh reality a little easier to know that Claire was not banishing her because she _wanted _to, but rather out of a sense of responsibility for the convoy.

"I understand," Alice said, and she did. "People have a habit of dying around me."

"Not just you."

The statement hung heavily in the air for a minute, and they both glanced over at the row of crosses. Far too many had been dug over the years; she would not be responsible for more.

"I'll help you any way I can. Then I'll be on my way," Alice said, finality in her voice.

Claire reached out to touch her arm. "Thank you."

Having reached this understanding, the redhead made to leave, but an idea dawned on Alice. She pulled from within her duster the notebook that she had found the other day and called after her:

"Hey, Claire..."

She turned back. "Yes?"

"You should see this," Alice said, and she handed her the book.

Claire looked at it quizzically. "What is it?"

Alice did not answer; instead she let the other woman flip through it to find out for herself. Claire's clear blue eyes shone with confusion and then with incredulity as she read on.

"Is this for real?"

"I think so," Alice replied. "And the owner of the book certainly did, too."

The redhead flipped through more pages; she seemed to consider it.

"We'll need to discuss this," Claire said, and she began again to walk away. She had gone only a few paces before she turned back to Alice. "You should come."

For a brief moment the ambiguity of her words allowed Alice to entertain the idea of going with them to Alaska, but she knew that the convoy's leader meant _come to the meeting _not to come on the journey to Arcadia. She shook her head at herself and followed the other woman as she gathered up the prominent members of the group to tell them about the discovery.

They gathered inside one of the trucks and were soon engaged in a heated debate about it.

"Claire, this sequence of transmissions... it's the best indication of life we've seen in months," Mikey argued. The Aussie seemed convinced that it was a viable option.

"But, Alaska?" Claire retorted, still incredulous.

"We have to check it out," he insisted. "We can't just ignore it."

The redhead was not shaken from her standpoint. "Have you any idea what kind of journey that would be?"

"Yeah. A long one," Chase interjected.

Claire continued: "And at the end of it, what? You have no guarantee there's even anyone alive up there."

"Claire, these transmissions say that –"

The leader cut Mikey off: "They're dated six months ago. How many radio broadcasts have we responded to? How many times have we got there too late?"

After having passively watched the whole debate, Alice was at last moved to speak:

"The transmissions say that there's no infection up there. It's isolated: safe."

Claire turned away. "This convoy trusts me with their lives. These people don't need pipe dreams."

Carlos looked up at her and said, "Maybe that's exactly what they need. Look at them, Claire. Six months ago there were 50 of us, then 40, now there's less than 30. They're starting to give up. They need... need some kind of hope."

Alice watched the myriad emotions play on Claire's face as she struggled with the enormous burden that was being put on her. She sympathized and wished there was something she could do. No one should have to bear something like that alone.

"Okay," Claire said at last. "Let's get everyone together."

They all climbed out of the truck, and once the remainder of the convoy was gathered around, Claire crouched on the bed of the truck to address them.

"We have a decision to make. And it's too big, it's too important for me to make for you. There is a chance there are survivors."

Someone asked, "Where?"

"In Alaska," Claire answered. She went on: "There is a _chance_...that the infection hasn't reached that far. But we don't know for sure. So we have a choice: We stay as we are... or we try for Alaska. For Alaska?"

Slowly, everyone raised their hands.

"Alaska," Claire repeated with finality.

Alice watched from the side of the truck as people cheered and embraced each other; she felt a small degree of happiness that her discovery had afforded these people at least a modicum of hope.

Carlos helped Claire down from the truck. Once on the ground, the redhead walked the short distance to where Alice stood. She reached out and touched Alice's arm again.

"I hope you're right," Claire said, a sort of warning in her tone, before turning away.

For better or for worse, they were now bound for Alaska.

_I hope I'm right, too. _

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_As always, comments are very much appreciated. As a writer I thrive upon them; a little encouragement can go a long way. _

_I hope you guys liked it, and the next part will venture off course from the canon somewhat, so I hope you'll find that exciting. If this part seems somewhat insignificant at this point, that's simply because its role isn't fully realized until part 5. I promise it's relevant, though. _


	3. Gravity

**Fandom:** RE: Afterlife

**Pairing: **Alice/Claire

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **Alice and Claire take a shower together; the water is not nearly cold enough.

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own anything but my own ideas.

_A/N: Here's part three. I apologize for the relatively large skip that occurs here. I put in the date/location to help you situate where it is. Everything else that happened between the end of part one and here is completely in keeping with canon, so if you've seen the movie, you'll know what happened. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated, and I hope you like this chapter.  
_

* * *

**For Hope I Would Give Everything**

Three: Gravity

_It sometimes happens that a woman is handsomer at twenty-nine than she was ten years before._

-Jane Austen

xxx

**May 6****th****, 11:36 p.m.: Citadel Correctional Facility. **

Alice dumped out the cache of quarters that she had found in Alaska. The large, silver-coloured coins sprawled across the table, clinking metallically as they fell.

Standing to the side, Luther gave her a bewildered look.

"What could you possibly want with those?" he asked.

She glanced over at him and gestured dismissively with her hands. "It's a hobby."

"A hobby?" he echoed, a bemused smile on his face. "Alright, well, I'll see you in the morning."

She nodded at him and continued stacking the quarters on the tabletop. Boredom and necessity breed invention; when her shotgun shells started running out, she decided to have a bit of fun with finding a replacement – the coins had proved so effective that the practice had stuck.

Nearly an hour later she finished working; she was packing her things up for the night when the echo of footsteps caused her to look up.

It was Angel coming down from the roof; he was alone.

"Where's Claire?" she asked, feeling a sudden irrational sense of panic.

Her concern must have been visible on her features, for he hastened to assure her, "She's fine. She just wanted to stay outside a bit longer."

Alice smiled, a little embarrassed by her transparency. "Thanks, Angel."

"No problem," he said good-naturedly. "Sleep well."

"You too."

As she watched him leave, she still had to fight the urge to hurry to the roof. Years of being alone does strange things to people, and she was no exception: the idea of losing Claire, the last person to whom she had any kind of connection anymore, was so inconceivably upsetting to Alice that even though she knew nothing bad had befallen her, she still wanted assurance by her own eyes that the redhead really was fine.

So Alice waited until Angel had gone; then she made her way out at a brisk but controlled pace.

The thick metal door that led outside creaked loudly as she pushed it open. The roof was well lit by the full moon high above, and she was met with a cool, pleasant breeze as she stepped out on to it. Alice's eyes searched for Claire, and she soon found her – she was standing at the top of the staircase and gazing out toward the Arcadia.

Her illogical fear refuted, Alice considered going back, but Claire had heard the sound of the door, and she turned to look down at the older woman.

_There goes that idea, _she thought, and as there was nothing else for it, she made her way over and climbed the stairs.

"Hey," Claire greeted warmly. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Alice lied. "It was getting stuffy down there."

It must have been a convincing enough excuse, because Claire went back to observing the inert ship without further inquiry. Alice moved up to the railing to get a better look herself; as she did, her hand drifted to the small of the redhead's back, seemingly by its own accord.

If Claire noticed the touch, she did not react to it; staring straight ahead, she said, "It's driving me crazy not knowing what happened over there. I wish we had a way out of here."

"Me too," Alice agreed. "I still haven't figured out how to fix this mess."

Claire glanced at her. "Who said it was your job to?"

"It's my fault we're here," Alice said with a shrug.

Claire turned around, leaning back against the railing and resting her elbows on it. In that moment the redhead's old self seemed to shine through: Her posture once again held a sort of casual confidence, which back in Nevada had made her stand out as a leader, and Alice was struck by how _sexy _it was.

She was so distracted by that discovery, in fact, that she was completely thrown by what Claire said next:

"Do you always blame yourself for everything?"

Alice opened her mouth to reply but shut it again upon the realization that she did not have an adequate answer. She had been telling herself for years that the outbreak was her fault – and by extension, so was everything else – but to articulate that to the other woman seemed too difficult. And it was not helped by the ever-present fear that once Claire's memory returned, she would blame Alice, too; would hate her for the part she played in sending them on the disastrous voyage to Alaska.

A hand came to rest on her arm, and she looked up into Claire's eyes. They were soft; gentle.

"Look, _we'll_ figure it out, okay?" Claire said, letting her fingers drop until they brushed Alice's. "I say we sleep on it; come at it with a fresh perspective tomorrow."

Alice conceded. "I guess you're right."

"Of course I am."

With that, Claire started down the stairs. Alice shook her head before following after the redhead; internally she wondered if the other woman would ever stop surprising her. Somehow, she doubted it.

She caught up with her on the roof, and together they made their way back to the cell block. Outside of the main hall was a corridor full of cells, the farthest of which were occupied by the other survivors. At the opposite end there were two relatively clean, empty cells, so Alice stopped there.

Observing the Spartan interior, with a small cot, threadbare blanket, and thin pillow as its only comforts, Alice stated wryly, "Well, that's one thing the place has going for it: fancy accommodations."

Claire raised an eyebrow. "A bed's a bed."

From the looks of it, the cot was scarcely better than the floor. But at least she could spend the night without fear of being attacked; without being cramped in the cockpit of her plane.

"Ever the optimist," Alice quipped, smirking. "Good night, Claire."

Without waiting for a response, she entered the cell and walked over to the cot. No sooner had she done so, but she turned around, confusion written on her features – Claire had followed her.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure you actually _sleep_," the redhead replied, as if it were the most obvious answer. She climbed onto the cot with her back pressed against the wall, leaving just enough room for Alice to join her; it would be tight. Intimate.

"I don't need you to take care of me."

"Fine. Then I don't want to be alone."

"Claire..."

Blue eyes fixed her with a determined stare. "Just get in already. I won't bite."

_That's not what I'm worried about. _

But what was she worried about? Getting too attached to someone? That had already gone out the window long ago. And a little voice in her head told her that there was a beautiful woman beckoning her to bed, so she should just get over it.

"You never struck me as the type to sleep with someone you hardly know," Alice remarked as she sat on the bed, spreading the blanket out over them. She laid down with her back to Claire, trying her best to get comfortable in the limited amount of space.

From behind her, the redhead replied, "That's funny, because you never struck me as the type to talk so much in bed."

This elicited a hearty laugh from Alice. "Touché."

They lay together in silence for a few minutes before Claire said, "This cot is too small."

Alice turned her head to look at the younger woman. "It was _your _idea."

"I know; I have a better one."

A strong arm wrapped around Alice's midsection, drawing her back until she was flush against Claire's front. The redhead's body was warm and soft; Alice could have sworn she felt lips brush her skin as Claire settled her face into the crook of her neck. This new position was a significant improvement over the other; sharing the space was far more comfortable.

"Good night, Alice."

The whispered words made her shiver, and in spite of herself, Alice was glad that Claire was so damn stubborn: this was the closeness that she had secretly wanted since Alaska but was far too proud to ask for; it felt wonderful.

And for the first time in years, sleep came easily to her.

xxx

"Hey Alice –"

She stirred, looking to the doorway. It was Luther who had spoken, but when he spotted Claire nestled behind her, he did a double-take.

He stuttered, "Oh, um... sorry?"

Alice laughed softly. "It's fine. Did you need something?"

"I have a surprise for you."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not fond of surprises."

Claire made a sound of protest into her neck and mumbled, "Too early."

Alice shifted into a sitting position, forcing her to rise as well. She turned to look at the bleary-eyed redhead with a smile.

"Luther has a surprise for us."

"Oh, actually –," Luther began, but when she looked at him, he stopped.

"Something wrong?" Alice asked.

He flicked his eyes between the two of them; he shook his head. "Nope. It's all good. Follow me, ladies."

He disappeared into the hall, and after rising from the bed and stretching the stiffness from their limbs, they followed him out. While they were still far enough behind, Claire muttered under her breath, "This guy seems like a prick."

Alice was not sure whether to laugh or to admonish her, so she did neither.

Luther led them past a few corridors, through a door and into a large space. As soon as they had made it to a row of sinks, it was evident what it was: a shower room. Past the sinks were a number of large cylindrical metal poles with showerheads mounted near the top.

On the way there, Luther grabbed two towels from a cart off to the side. He explained, "We still have running water."

"How civilized," Claire retorted as they drew close to one of the poles.

"We do our best," Luther replied, turning it on. A steady stream of water burst forth.

Alice reached out to feel it; unsurprisingly, the water was frigid.

"It's cold," she observed.

"Our best only goes so far." He handed them the towels and added, "These are for you. I'm not sure which of you would like to go first..."

Before Alice could answer, Claire interjected, "That won't be necessary."

Luther frowned; Alice was intrigued.

The redhead shrugged. When she elaborated, her tone was blasé. "She's seen me naked before. It doesn't matter."

Luther's eyes grew considerably wider and he looked to Alice, as if for confirmation.

"Thank you," Alice said, "but I think we'll be fine."

"Right. Then I guess I should leave you to it."

Alice glanced at Claire, who looked less than thrilled. "I guess you should."

He looked between them one more time and said, "I'll be right outside."

She watched him leave, shaking her head. When she turned back to Claire, the redhead was glaring in the direction he had gone. Alice was not quite sure what her problem with Luther was, but it was amusing to say the least.

"So you remember Alaska, then?" Alice asked. The younger woman had been so out of it at the time that she had wondered if she would have any memories from their time there.

Claire smirked as she started to undress; she kicked off her shoes and set them aside, and then slid her leather vest off. She hung it over a metal railing nearby.

"I remember you calling me beautiful," the redhead began, with her back to Alice; she turned around and reached for the hem of her shirt. "And I remember you taking off my clothes."

"You were filthy. I couldn't leave you like that."

"Uh huh."

Divested of the shirt, Claire stood before her in just a black bra and her skin-tight pants. Alice could not have stopped her eyes from wandering even if she wanted to, and when her gaze came back up to her face, Claire had a single eyebrow arched.

The redhead's hands drifted to the zipper of her pants and drew it slowly down. A moment later Claire was pushing the material down her hips, and she turned to hang these over the railing as well. Still facing away, she hooked her fingers into her underwear and tugged them off too, revealing the smooth, firm curve of her backside.

"You know, staring at me won't exactly make this go faster," Claire said, looking over at Alice. "And I don't know about you, but I don't want Luther to come check up on us."

As if finally gaining control over her body, Alice turned away and started to strip as well. She cursed herself for acting like a hormonal teenager, but something in the way Claire looked at her suggested that the younger woman was enjoying her reaction; perhaps even encouraging it.

"Shit," Claire yelped as she stepped under the stream of water. "It's motherfucking_ cold_."

Finished undressing, Alice moved up to her own shower. _And thank God for that._ She closed her eyes and let the water flow over her head, trying not to think about the naked redhead and failing miserably.

At her continued silence, Claire asked, "You okay, Alice?"

She glanced over at Claire. The water was snaking down her body in rivulets, goosebumps rising all over her pale skin from the chilly liquid.

"Peachy," Alice croaked, thinking that this was perhaps greater torture than spending eighteen months with no one but herself for company.

The shower was kept mercifully short, as neither could stand the water for very long. They towelled themselves dry and dressed; despite the uncomfortable burn of arousal it left her with, Alice was still glad to be at least a little cleaner. She thought, however, that she would give all the riches in the world for a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo; it was funny how circumstance really put the importance of things into perspective.

When they came out into the hall, Luther pushed off from the wall he was leaning on and smiled at them.

"Enjoy your shower, ladies?" he asked.

Alice glanced at Claire. "Yes. Thank you."

"I hope it wasn't too cold for you," Luther added as they started to wall back to the cell block.

"I think Alice wouldn't have minded if it had been colder," Claire interjected, smirking; her blue eyes held a teasing glint. "Isn't that right?"

Luther looked back and forth between the two of them before settling on Alice, utterly puzzled by the redhead's statement.

"What did she mean by that?"

"Nothing," Alice said. "Just a joke."

"Oh, right. Sure."

The two women locked eyes and laughed. They wandered back to their cell, leaving Luther behind with a mystified expression on his face.

xxx

That night, as they lay in bed together, Alice was positive that the brush of lips against her ear was intentional; so was the teasing press of a thigh between her legs as Claire shifted to get more comfortable. And were it not for the chance that one of the others might stumble upon them, Alice might have given in to the urge to pin Claire to the cot and get revenge for earlier. Instead, she laced their fingers together and snuggled into her embrace.

There was no need to rush: They had all the time in the world.

* * *

_Okay, so I debated with myself over whether Alice really might react like she did when Angel came down from the roof alone, but I finally came to the conclusion that it isn't out of character, considering what she went through. Alice, by all rights, should be a complete nutter at this point, so it's not that crazy for her to have a "holy shit, what if?" moment. That and Alice had this really weird possessive-protectiveness of Claire going on during Afterlife, so I chalked it up to that as well._

_Also, yes, I am the biggest tease in the world. Sorry._


	4. Here Is Gone

**Fandom**: RE: Extinction

**Pairing: **Alice/Claire

**Rating: **M (for language)

**Summary**: Claire never considers her own needs; Alice thinks that she can help.

**Disclaimer**: I wish I owned Resident Evil, because the series would have epic femslashyness. Sadly, you're stuck with fic.

_A/N: So this is the second and final flashback; after this, there's one more part in the Afterlife timeline. This part should put a lot of things that you might have wondered about into context. It's shorter, but I promise you'll like it. Thanks again for all the wonderful feedback, and enjoy!_

* * *

**For Hope I Would Give Everything**

Four: Here Is Gone

_To die and part is a less evil; but to part and live, there, there is the torment. _

-George Lansdowne

xxx

**Las Vegas: 18 months ago. **

Alice pushed open the door to the roof, a gun in each of her hands, her feet carrying her purposefully toward the tent that Umbrella had erected. She was resolved: she would kill them all – those bastards had to pay for what they had done.

As she breached the flap, Alice lifted her guns and shot the first soldier; with deadly accuracy she put the rest of them down, one at a time, a sneer on her face as she did. When she was sure that they were dead, she holstered her weapons.

The tent was full of computers and other electronic equipment; as she inspected them further, Alice was disturbed to find that the screens displayed everything that she was seeing, _as she was seeing it _– like they had a camera behind her eyes. No wonder she had come to feel as if she were not alone in her own head.

Alice tore her gaze away from the computers as she heard the helicopter roar to life. She hurried outside, her hands grabbing for her guns again, and took aim; however, she refrained from shooting. It would be a waste of bullets, and anyway, she had an idea.

K-Mart came running up to her. "Why didn't you shoot?"

"Because we're not driving to Alaska; we need that helicopter intact," Alice answered. She nodded toward the tent. "Let's go look at the computers - see where that chopper's headed."

When they reached the entrance of the tent, K-Mart stopped. Alice turned back to look at her and realized what had given her pause: the dead men, each with a neat bullet hole in his skull.

"You can stay outside, if you want," Alice said, feeling suddenly like the monster those kids had thought she was.

"No, I'm okay," K-Mart insisted, following her inside. The teenager side-stepped a corpse and sat down at one of the computers. She began looking; it was not long before she was pointing excitedly at the screen. "Here, I found it. They're headed to a weather station in the salt flats. I can print out a map."

Alice smiled. "Good work."

With the map printed out, they gathered up anything that might be useful and made their way back down to the others. Carlos and another adult were digging graves; Claire was nowhere in sight.

"Why don't you go check on the kids, K-Mart?" Alice suggested, her eyes searching the sandy landscape for the leader.

"Okay," the teenager agreed, seeming thankful for a task that did not involve burying her friends.

Alice reached out with her mind, until she was able to sense Claire. She began to walk toward one of the half-buried structures and found her behind it, leaning against a wall with her back to Alice.

She reached out a hand to the redhead's arm and said softly, "Hey..."

Claire jerked away. When she turned around, her eyes shone with unshed tears; there was anger building in them. "Where did those things come from?"

"It was Umbrella. They..."

"They sent them here for _you_, didn't they?" Claire accused, her eyes narrowing.

Alice looked down. There was no sense in denying it. "Yes."

For a moment Claire was silent, and when Alice looked up, she was surprised to find the redhead mere inches in front of her. One of her gloved hands came to rest on the wall beside Alice, all but pinning her there.

"This is your fault," Claire hissed. "If you hadn't come to us with your fucking book and fucking_ Alaska_, none of this would have happened."

Alice closed her eyes and turned her head away. It was true, and she hated herself for it.

More and more it seemed as though she were cursed: like Sisyphus, she would forever be forced to endure the perpetual cycle; no matter how hard she struggled, she could no more stop the people she cared about from dying than he could stop the boulder from rolling back down the hill.

"You're right. I should never have come."

Claire said nothing, but did not move away. The rage that Alice had felt pouring off of her just a moment ago abated, substituted by a new emotion that was not so easy to sense.

Alice opened her eyes again and saw that the redhead's gaze had softened. The anger in her eyes had become sorrow; possibly even regret. It was like looking in a mirror, and this did not seem to be lost on the redhead. Now Alice was able to place the new emotion: empathy; compassion.

"No," Claire said, shaking her head. "Even if we had survived the crows, we had no food; nowhere to go. We were just wasting away – prolonging the inevitable – and I knew it. I just didn't want to admit ... that I failed."

Claire paused, glancing away from Alice. When she continued, her voice was strained: "At least... at least when they died, they died with hope. It's what they always needed and more than they would have had without you; more than I could do for them."

The confession surprised Alice. Once again she felt nothing but the utmost respect for Claire, who seemed not to think of her own suffering.

"So _they _had hope, but what about you?" Alice asked. "When was the last time you thought about what you needed?"

"I..." Claire hesitated. "I'm not sure you could give me that."

A small smile spread across Alice's lips and she reached up to brush an errant strand of red hair from Claire's face. She let her hand drift to the base of Claire's neck and gave her a gentle tug forward.

"Maybe I can," Alice said softly, pressing close for a kiss.

It was light at first; just the barest touch of lips. But then Claire's other hand came up to rest on the wall and she pressed her body flush into Alice's, her mouth opening as she took command of the kiss. Alice gripped the back of her neck more tightly, kissing her with the same reckless ferocity, as if everything they felt could be channelled into the frantic meshing of their lips.

Claire was the first to pull away, and breathlessly she said, "We should get back to the others."

Freed from the wall, Alice followed her. As they walked side by side, she reached down to take hold of Claire's hand. The redhead said nothing, but she held on all the same; it was not until they neared the other survivors that she let go of Alice's fingers.

"So," Alice began, turning to her with a grin, "we've got a new plan."

xxx

Alice stood, leaning alone against the tanker, watching as K-Mart and Claire said goodbye to Carlos. The teenager was inconsolable, and it was all Alice could do to rein in her own tears. Too many of her friends had died already, and her impending departure from those whom she had very quickly come to care for only made Carlos' fate that much harder to bear. Once again, she would have no one.

When he came over to stand by her, she said, "Carlos..."

"Save it," he interrupted. He seemed to know what she was going to say – how sorry she was for letting this happen to him, to them all. "Just promise me one thing: when you get down there..."

"Consider it done."

She drew him in for a hug, unable to keep the tears from falling. When she let go, he climbed into the truck with no further words.

Alice walked back toward the other vehicles. The remaining survivors were gathering in the 8x8 and K-Mart had climbed into the back of the Hummer.

She felt a hand on her arm and turned to see Claire. The younger woman was doing her best to seem fine, but Alice knew better.

"Listen, Alice...," the redhead began, pausing as if struggling with the words. "I was wrong; you don't have to do this. Come with us."

Alice closed her eyes for a brief moment; she wished things could be different. She wanted nothing more than to make the journey to Alaska, to prevent any more harm from befalling them, but she had to settle the score with Isaacs. She would never truly be free as long as Umbrella had this hold on her. She could never truly belong with anyone until she put a stop to it.

"I wish I could go with you," Alice said. "But it has to end here. I'll try to make it to Alaska when I'm finished..."

Before she was even done talking, Claire pulled her in for a hug, holding tightly; Alice turned her face into her neck, returning the embrace. When they parted, the redhead's expression was determined.

"You had damn well better. It was _your_ stupid idea."

In spite of everything, this made her smile. It made what she was about to do just that little bit better, to know that there would be friends – and _Claire_ – waiting for her.

When everyone was ready to go, Alice climbed into the driver's side of the Hummer. Claire took up the passenger seat, so that she would be able to hop out immediately and get the helicopter started when they got down there.

They drove beside the tanker until they neared the complex. Alice looked over at Carlos, who nodded to her. She pulled the vehicle back, allowing him to pass in front. As he sped ahead of them to his death, Alice felt Claire reach out and touch her arm for support.

She watched as Carlos continued until he was nearly at the gate, and then the tanker rolled onto its side, crashing through hundreds of zombies. A few slow, painful minutes passed, and then the entire thing burst into a flaming, horrible mass.

Alice hit the gas, using the Hummer to punch a hole through the remaining debris. As soon as she stopped, Claire jumped out and headed for the helicopter. Alice ran with K-Mart to the back of the other truck, helping the children down; she took hold of the last child and ran to the chopper, where she passed him off to another survivor.

"Take him," she said. Then she handed the red journal to K-Mart. "Here."

"You're not coming?" K-Mart asked, looking distraught.

Alice shook her head. "Take care of the others."

She turned to Claire, whose expression was solemn. Alice nodded to her and raised her hand in a salute. The redhead stared back at her for what felt like an age, silent communication passing between them, and then finally lifted up on the controls, taking the helicopter into the air.

Alice watched them fly away; she wondered if she would ever see them again.

Claire's words replayed in her mind, resolving her to it:

"_You had damn well better." _

_

* * *

_

_I actually don't have anything to add this time. One more part to go; I've saved the best for last. _


	5. More Than This

**Fandom:** Post-Afterlife

**Pairing: **Alice/Claire (for real this time)

**Rating**: T-M (I dunno, I'm terrible at ratings)

**Summary**: Claire had a long time to think about things on the journey to Alaska; Alice struggles to overcome her guilt.

**Disclaimer**: I own many things; Resident Evil, sadly enough, is not one of them.

_A/N: Here is the final part. 'But it's so short!' you say. I know, and I'm sorry. But when I was writing this, I realized I had nothing more to say beyond what is expressed here, and anything further would just be padding. I figured it was better for everything in it to be important; however, fear not, as this is not the last fic I will be writing. And while it may be short, I think you're very much going to enjoy this. Thank you again for all the wonderful comments (you are heartily encouraged to leave more, should you desire to), and above all - enjoy! _

* * *

**For Hope I Would Give Everything**

Five: More Than This

_It is also good to love: because love is difficult. For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult task that has been entrusted to us, the ultimate task, the final test and proof, the work for which all other work is merely preparation._

-Rainer Maria Rilke

**May 14****th****: Arcadia. **

It was dusk; the water beneath the Arcadia was calm as the ship floated up the North Pacific Coast, bearing toward Alaska. If its pace remained constant, they would arrive in just a few more days' travel. Then they would begin a new life in the frozen paradise: a life without infection; without fear. They were on the verge of perhaps the greatest Renaissance humanity had ever known; the resulting excitement aboard the Arcadia was such that a sort of palpable energy seemed to linger in the air.

Alice stood at the helm of the ship, making sure that they kept on course. In a few hours they would set anchor and someone else would come up to relieve her: Out of safety concerns, one of the more trusted adults always remained in the control room to make sure nothing went wrong.

The sense of anticipation that the others were feeling was not lost on Alice. For once things finally seemed to be going right, and she had the people she cared about here with her; _safe_. It had been six years in the making, and as far as she was concerned, was long past due.

The door opened, interrupting her musings, and she smiled at the new arrival. Her timing was quite appropriate.

"Hey," Alice said; surprise was evident in her tone. "I thought Chris had the next shift."

"He does, but I was bored," Claire replied with a shrug. She crossed the room and casually hopped up onto a counter beside Alice, rolling her eyes as she went on: "Luther was reminiscing about the 'glory days.' That's not really my idea of a good time."

Alice laughed. "You still don't like him, huh?"

Claire stared evenly back at her. "No. I just don't like the way he looks at you."

Intrigued, Alice asked, "Are you jealous?"

"Should I be?"

It was a loaded question and not at all what she had expected. As she looked into blue eyes, she wondered exactly how much Claire remembered. After their arrival on the Arcadia, the redhead had seemed more like her old self with every day that passed; as more time went by, it became increasingly evident that Claire was attracted to Alice, and was aware of Alice's own attraction, but she had made no reference to what happened between them in Nevada. The expression that she wore now suggested, however, that she did remember. The question was, _when _had the memory returned?

Alice moved to lean against the counter, close to her but not touching.

"No. He isn't my type," she replied, a slow grin forming on her lips. She nudged Claire with her elbow and arched an eyebrow. "I prefer pissed off redheads."

Claire shook her head at that and laughed softly, but her features soon shifted to a look of remorse. "Alice... I just want to say that I'm sorry. I was going through so much shit back then; you were a convenient target and it was easy to take it out on you."

"No, you were right. It was my fault."

The younger woman reached out, gently tracing her fingers over Alice's arm. She said, "It _wasn't_, and neither was Alaska."

This caught Alice completely off guard, and her eyes widened. "What?"

"I think you figured I was asleep, but I heard you; you said, 'I'm sorry I let this happen to you.' But you had no way of knowing that Arcadia was a trap; at worst, we figured we would find nothing but snow and ice. None of us could have dreamed of what Umbrella was doing."

Inside, she knew this was the truth, but there were so many 'what if?'s that her mind refused to relinquish the belief that there would have been something that she could have done.

"Still, I should have gone with you," Alice insisted vehemently. "Protected you."

Claire laced their fingers together and gave her hand a light squeeze. "Look, Alice, I had a _very_ long time to think about it on the way to Alaska; to tell you the truth, it's pretty much all I thought about. And the more I did, the more I regretted the way I treated you. I realized that sometimes things happen that are beyond our control, and there's no sense hating yourself or someone else for something you can't change. You need to just let it go. I did."

Alice glanced away for a moment. If only her guilt were as easy to get over.

She muttered, "Easier said than done."

When she looked back up at Claire, there was no judgement in her cobalt eyes: just gentle warmth and something else, something that made Alice's heart beat a little harder in her chest.

"Come here," Claire beckoned, and she did as asked. The redhead spread her knees, and Alice took this as an invitation to step between them, bringing their bodies impossibly close. The timbre of her voice was deeper as she added, "Maybe I can help you."

The level of the counter was such that Alice still maintained her slight height advantage over the younger woman; when Claire wrapped her arms around Alice's neck and drew her closer still, she had to lean up just that little bit to kiss her.

Alice hummed low in her throat as she felt Claire scratch her nails lightly at the back of her neck. Unlike their first kiss in Nevada, she was able to take her time, to revel in the soft caress of the redhead's lips on her own.

As it went on, the kiss became harder; hungrier. Alice curled her hands under Claire's knees and pulled her tighter against her body, and when Alice's tongue flicked against the redhead's lips, her mouth opened immediately to accept it. The first touch of Claire's tongue against hers was electric; it was all Alice could do not to ravish her right there on the counter. But as much as she wanted to drop to her knees and fuck Claire into oblivion, the idea of any one of two thousands survivors on board catching them in a compromising position was enough to grant her a modicum of restraint.

Claire smiled against her lips and broke away for air. "Feel better?"

"Mm, almost," Alice replied and stole another kiss; another soon became several; those several soon became as deep and insatiable as before.

It was the sound of someone outside the door that finally caused them to part, and they hurried to make themselves appear nonchalant. Alice stepped back to the controls of the ship, pretending to check that they were on course.

The door opened, revealing Chris.

"Hey, Claire, K-Mart needs your help down in the galley," he said.

"Uh, sure," the redhead replied, hopping down from her perch. "Give me a minute?"

He nodded, seeming to think nothing of the request. "No problem."

When Chris was gone, Claire crossed the short distance between herself and Alice.

She pressed close for one final kiss and said, "See you later?"

Alice grinned, her eyes sparkling. "You know where to find me."

Claire turned to leave but paused at the door. "Be sure to wait up."

When she was alone once again, Alice could not help but shake her head and laugh at how life works itself out sometimes.

And later that night when they fell into bed, lips and hands roaming over new territory, she decided that she could not hope for anything more than this.

* * *

_So in this timeline, obviously, Umbrella doesn't attack the Arcadia with 40 Ospreys. On a separate note, I chose specifically not to tell you when Claire remembered the bit about Nevada, so that when you read back over part 3, you start to wonder if Claire behaved that way toward Alice because she is naturally attracted to her - memory or not - or if she did it because she remembered something (going based off that "nothing that makes any sense" line of Claire's in Afterlife). And no, I really won't tell you the answer. That's part of the fun of a fragmentary text like this: you get to fill in the blanks for yourself. I encourage you, if you liked it, to read back over the entire story now, as a lot of things should seem to fall into place (and I hope that they won't contradict themselves too much). And so for now I bid you adieu. Thanks for reading!_


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